


Five Times (+1) The Musketeers Said "I'll go."

by prompt_fills



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: 5 Times, Drabble, Drabble Sequence, Episode: s02e01 Keep Your Friends Close, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Shippy Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 23:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5474501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prompt_fills/pseuds/prompt_fills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>6×100 drabble fill for an anon who liked that moment in S2E1 when Athos said "I'll go" and who wanted to see more moments when the muskteers help each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times (+1) The Musketeers Said "I'll go."

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [**BBC Musketeers Kink**](http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/), Round 3, [_for this prompt_.](http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/2286.html?thread=3538158#cmt3538158)  
> 

**×**

 

It was nearly before the sunrise when the musketeers were roused from their sleep. Aramis and Porthos had returned the previous evening from their mission and the ensuing debate extended well into the night.

“You should go collect him before the Red Guards find him,” Aramis muttered, having recognized Athos’ awful drunken singing.

“Or before _he_ finds them,” d’Artagnan added, sticking out his leg from under the covers and kicking Porthos. “It’s your turn.”

“S’ti’ed,” Porthos groaned into his pillow.

“We have been scouting the parameter for three days,” Aramis remarked quietly.

“All right, I’ll go,” d’Artagnan sighed, getting up.

**×**

 

“You don’t have to.”

“I’ll go, Athos. Our Spanish prisoner requested to speak with a priest, what better chance we have?” Aramis said, accepting the clerical robes from Porthos.

“You will report all the poor trusting man confides in you during his confession?”

“The _poor trusting man_ killed two good Frenchmen,” Porthos said, placing a cross around Aramis’ neck and glaring at Athos at the same time.

“The Red Guards are _good men_?” Athos grumbled, watching the preparations but doing nothing to stop them.

Aramis clasped his hands, “Athos, my son, rest assured. There is no greater joy than this.”

**×**

 

“What insolence,” Porthos cried, outraged. “We shall settle this dispute once and for all.”

“All right, then,” the man said, drawing his sword in one fluid motion before Porthos managed to get on his feet. “Choose your second.”

“I don’t need no second! I shall cut you into-”

Athos rose from the table with a surprising agility for someone who had just as much to drink as Porthos. He touched Porthos’ hand where Porthos’ knuckles had been turning white from the tight grip he had on the hilt of his sword.

“I’m here with you,” Athos said calmly, “I’ll go.”

**×**

 

“D’Artagnan! D’Artagnan!” The door of Tréville’s office were flung open. “Where is that damned boy?”

“D’Artagnan?”

“Yes! He was supposed to report to me this morning!”

Aramis cleared his throat, lowered his head and pulled his hat over his eyes. “Ah, I believe he is still with Madame Bonacieux.”

“Shall I go fetch the boy, sir?” Athos offered.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll go,” Tréville snapped, walking away in a brisk stride.

“That Gascon boy is in so much trouble,” Porthos sighed, pulling out a deck of cards. “A game, gentlemen?”

“Well, it seems we might wait a while,” Athos allowed.

**×**

 

Porthos looked from Aramis to the lady they rescued. The long way back to Paris was yet in front of them.

“You take the other horse,” Porthos decided, mounting his own horse. “I’ll go. There was other part of this mission the captain entrusted me with.”

“What?” Aramis glanced up from making eyes at the young lady.

“You will be all right escorting the lady safely back to her family, am I right, Aramis?”

“Of course,” Aramis managed, still sounding confused.

Porthos galloped back into the town where he would spend a day in a tavern before trailing after Aramis.

**+**

 

The grey walls of the castle blended perfectly into the stony mountain slopes. The musketeers would not have noticed the stronghold were it not for the flag raised high above the tops of the trees.

“Once we’re inside, we’re safe,” Aramis allowed himself a small smile, impressed by the excellent location of their hiding place.

“Relatively,” Tréville reminded them. “I shall still need somebody to scout the surrounding woods. There might be enemy patrols on duty.”

The four friends exchanged eloquent looks before spurring their horses forward to catch up with their captain. “I’ll go,” four voices cried as one.


End file.
